Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring. - Marilyn Monroe

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

right here where you are.

"You have the power to bless your own life. Nobody can do it for you."

-My Kundalini yoga teacher.

Mantra:
Today offers us some sort of opportunity, and life is beautiful. My mantra for survival.

6 days ago...

Only minutes ago mid grind, an assisting voice with no name, physical attributes, or visible location, spoke to me, kind of like a wizard. I felt like Dorothy. I felt inspired by this vibration so seasonably articulated. I felt crazy. But hey, I'm never gonna survive unless I get a little crazy right? So, I get a little crazy. I can hardly help it. I want to know what "not crazy" means anyways. I have yet to discover it's opaque definition, and no one whom I've crossed paths with has yet to define it's meaning for me. And it's funny to me, because this is the typically and more commonly assumed, preempt, most fitting character trait: to be not crazy. It's coveted. It's preferred. It's politically correct. It's pretend. 'Cause, is there really such a thing?

Anyways, back to my story...

Slightly mute was the tone of this celestial manifesto, this "voice" I could hardly detect, but emphatic was it's force and it's energy. And, as I paced through the bedroom, the halls and a living room so silent my thoughts resonated like a tribal dance, I pondered on an angel's existence. I felt I was a subordinate to an omnipotent presence, or a seraph had come to offer payment, a liberation compensation for my sudden "ransom". Deeply concerned, I sensed I'd been blackmailed by the imperious power of worry and quickly kidnapped by exhausting fears. Though, now I was thoughtless, fearless, speechless and entirely unfettered by the voice of love and companion. Was this an angel? Becoming more perceptive, I began to cross-examine myself, my mind and spirit now testifying with insightful grace. Much like an attorney, I've always asked a lot of questions. Prior to my adulthood, whatever that means, I was a spunky child, always receptive, though demanding. I wanted answers in return. Nothing's changed. I'm a bit taller now and I have to pay bills. Though, that's not the only thing I pay. There's a high price for just about everything. And, today those "high prices" have motivated my unyielding curiosity to thrive in itself like a Viking, vocalizing itself like an orator, pioneering "the way" as though a ringleader of great pursuit, better-yet, a usurper. I'm conquered and checkmated by my own inquiring mind constantly. Reduced to nothing, I have no real answers. Though faint of heart, I am not. I feel strong inside my weaknesses. Besides, I think we as people are only truly humbled when we know nothing. I think the phrase, "I don't know" is very honest. It's possibly a bit over-the-top; our wellness harmonizing itself with wisdom and vitality while knowing diddly-squat, but it could be the way it works. It being God, gender-less I do assume. Though, to know nothing does suggest an archetypal and primordial "genesis", so-to-speak. The earth's evolution, the unsolved mysteries of the universe and its undecided, argued origin, our natality, our delivery, our birth--it all marks the beginning. The beginning of what? And, all are promised stages leading us toward some sort of pending ending, stages where one day we might dance and sing...before it's too late. All the world's a stage, and an all professing epic indeed is this rendition of "life". In a performance so theatrical and so dramatic it's tragic, germane it has inherently become to the very question at bay; "what do we know?". It's a great question to ask ourselves if and when we do decide to change our thinking, open up our hearts, and start all over again--starting new like anewborn. Untouched by the earth's wrong dealings we are at birth. With no real cognizance to call our own, no trust issues, no anger or defeat, we're just here right where we are, simple and pure. Simple and pure with no information. We don't know anything at our first birthday bash in a delivery room. We just know we're screaming and it's cold 'cause we're naked. We don't even know who anyone is. But, we do sense love. There's a thought. Then life begins.

I do trust that wanting to know more, and desiring to do more is a beautiful thing. But, letting go of what we think we know is the true test. This is when the healing process of body, mind and soul begins. Then we know nothing.

Just the other day, a neighbor of mine engaged kindly as we stumbled upon one another at the sidewalk's corner. The day was beautiful. Above my head, I remember the sky was clear blue, the air cool and calm. We chatted for a bit. I mentioned I was a writer and a fluent questioner of life in all regards. She mentioned her interests in related topics, such as love and spirit. Eventually, though it only took minutes, the conversation provoked a more emotional intimacy, a potential desperation even transpired as she asked me this ever-so perpetual question...

"what is love...really?"

I'd heard that before. I turned back time for a moment as I stood there with no instant retort. Though, I rebounded from my past in seconds, I didn't really know what to say to her. "I don't know" wouldn't have been saying enough, I wanted to be helpful. So, I did my best to respond. Though, I think my retort was more of an inquiry in itself, because defining "love" is a quest for me as well, a potential everlasting quest. So, I told her...

Love starts with you.

Love is kind.

Love is saying "okay", when nothing feels okay.

That's it. That's all I knew, or at least it's all I knew how to say. I wanted to say more. We always want to say more, and do more. Though, often times we do less and say less. Why? Is it because we don't have the answers, because we don't know the answers?

If we don't know what love is, what do we know? Everything else?

What is everything else? Because, there's an objecting and rowdy high pitched noise shouting from somewhere inside of me, and probably somewhere inside of you, denying such notion; to know nothing. It's the something inside of me that wants to know everything and everything else. It's either my soul or my ego, I don't know. Imagine that. I do know that there's an immense desire to serve and protect myself, and to obtain knowledge to use to shield myself from pain, and to carry on just like that. But, that catapults, and much like a boomerang, the side effects leave me wounded by a sudden recoil. The return is the real test, 'cause what goes around, comes all the way back around just like a boomerang, or a marry-go-round. It's very easy to dance in circles. And, it's very easy to look out for ourselves. But, what about everybody else?

So, back to my story about this "voice" I heard...

The house was dead silent as I successively paced to the tribal beat of my ferocious concerns, concerns regarding life, regarding the people I love, regarding everything. Though in an instant, I ultra-willingly stopped mentally moving. And, that's one of the most challenging things for me to do.

But, first I argued with the voice because it was highly inconvenient for me to juststop. "Stop what?!" I exclaimed to myself. "Stop being alive and functioning in the world, doing the things I NEED to do?"....."I need more coffee!"..."I need, I need, I need, I need." My tone was stifled a bit. I noticed I was talking to myself in an anxious, yet some-what calm tone. Composed was the word. Though, I was still pacing the house, coffee in one hand, a To-Do list the size of a novel in the other, and my lap top stalking me from across the room. One long-winded argument with myself and a caffeine overdose later, I had completely evaded the moment of truth all together. That happens when I think too much. And, while attempting to tread a path for yourself toward wellness, joy, wisdom and all that good stuff, you're advised to remain presentin the moment at all times. THAT'S NOT EASY TO DO. And, just when I think it is easy to do, moments like these prove me wrong.

And, moments like these wake me up.

This voice that spoke was probably the voice of an angel, or maybe it was my conscience, or my "higher self", or God...Whoever the voice belonged to, I argued with it. I argued 'till I had a headache and TWO twitching eyes. It got me nowhere but down...on the floor where I flopped to my butt like an infant who has yet to learn how to walk. I must learn to walk until it's the only thing I do, to talk is simply not enough. Walk and walk on, 'cause that's when life begins, so says my heart now rising and shining, as though awakening herself to a new dawn. "Good morning!"...I heard my heart cry out, then in an instant, I heard nothing at all. Silence saturated the oxygen. My mind tranquilized with every effort made to merge with the moment, my thoughts shifting. I decided to take a much-needed breath. With my hands together bracing my body's center, I inhaled passionately, respiring with a gust and a gentle sigh. I began to acknowledge and reflect upon the message presenting itself to me as though etched into stone tablets. I felt like Moses. I acknowledged the power of stillness and speechlessness. I "harked among a herald angel", though I didn't pop in any Christmas tunes. But, 'tis the season now mid December, and it's the most wonderful time of the year, an amazing time to become more aware, acknowledging God in everyone. I sat still in awareness. I observed. I noticed the air in the room had notably suppressed itself emulating the ocean's abyss, though the extreme pressure encountered at such depths was now lifting and alleviating me, offering truce and goodwill. I noticed my body, and previous to the current tranquility now consuming me kindly, deep relaxation and breath had rightfully deserted me like an escape artist. But now, salvaged was every ounce of my peace. On this day, six days ago, I realized I had to withstand and defeat my greatest contender: Me. I had been lost in incessant thought, not trust and not faith. I call this the "daily grind". But, fortunately something beyond my need to control the whole universe had come to the rescue that day, and I call this the daily miracle. I also call this meditation.

I closed my eyes and gracefully demanded my some-what infantile subconscious to "be quite", as though mothering my own self, as I often do. And soon after, sleeping peacefully were all my wants and needs. Awakened was my soul. Then I remembered what I had forgotten; I have everything I need, not want, but need. The rest will take care of itself according to God's will. My body warm and balanced, my breath parallel. I welcomed the expansion of the space around me, the space within me. I welcomed the unrivaled virtue with open arms. I was truly in a candy shop, so sweet was the sensation imbuing my body head to toe. What a beautiful offering, an amends to all the pain and stress endured while locked in the arms of suffering. This was my opportunity to try again. This "voice", this angel, this miracle, this power within me proclaiming itself, was really just another possibility, an opportunity to trust in something more divine than the "daily grind", and to start over again. So, with my palms facing the ceiling, my legs pretzels, my breath that of fire and prayer my guide, I made my way back home... all the way to here, right were I am.

Om...Peace, Amen.

You can close your eyes and do the same if you want to. Or, just be here...right here where you are. It's often times a long and arduous journey, but you'll get here, not there, but here, where it's more peaceful.

Here we are home. And home is where the heart is.

I say, accept where you are, appreciate where you've been and be excited about where you're going. This will always lead us back home...back here.

Love and Light to you. May your holidays surround you with lots of joy and peace.

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